Look up at the Stars
by Cobalt-Goddess
Summary: The seldom -edited story of love, loss, violence and reasons why.. Grima/OC NO SLASH...um.. unless you count throats he he
1. prologue: beaten, bruised, and baleful

Look up at the stars…

by Cobalt Goddess

Disclaimer: I own nothing, although I plan to, all I need is to win the lottery, then I can buy the rights.

Prologue:

   Lorwyn sat crying in her quarters, her bloodstained dress lying open across her back. As Thalian dressed the copious slashes that ran from her sister's neck to the small of her back, her hands trembled at the sight and thought of what their master had done.  

   "I am to blame, sister", sobbed Lorwyn," I've yet to learn how to control my tongue, as you well know."  She laughed softly to herself, the irony in her sigh made Thalian's heart break. She always blamed herself, although, as far as Thalian could see, her sister had always been very proper and from her mouth came only the most polite of speech. Surely no, this was none of her doing. 

    For years Thalian had born sole witness to every slap and every curse thrown at Lorwyn by their heartless master, but never had he physically lashed out until today. And after all the years of loyal service given by Lorwyn and her family, this dog of Gondor scarred her for life simply for greeting his son, whom neither of them had before met, without first asking permission. 

   "I despise the ground he walks on," Thalian spit. " Elwan, Malwyn, and Jaryl make errors regularly and are never given more than a reprimand, you speak out of turn and are FLOGGED!" She turned toward the fire, it's flames mirroring the intensity of the ones burning hotly in her chest. "Time, perhaps, for the daughters of Rornen to teach him why it's wrong to strike a woman."  

    "You mustn't speak ill of Master this way, "Lorwyn begged, standing to face her sister, "If he were to hear…"  

    "I care not!" Thalian declared," If the Master wishes to flog someone, let him feel the sting as well!" Lorwyn had never seen her sister as terribly irate as she now was. Thalian tore from her sister's mournful gaze and, fire poker in hand, she went forth to find her Master Galmod and his son Grima, who had caused her sister this pain.

Willa, Thalian and Lorwyn's mother, caught her rampaging child by the arm as she stormed past her in an oblivious fury. She had both feared and anticipated that this day would come, the day Thalian had had enough, just as her father had.

   "Ease yourself, my child," Willa softly pleaded. "Ease and thank your very being that I came for you when I did, for elsewise you life would be forfeit and your mother's soul would be torn asunder!"

   "Ease?" Thalian shrieked. "Ease as my sister lies bleeding! What say you, mother, where was your soul as Lorwyn was torn asunder? !"

   "I well know the pain, more so than you," cried Lorwyn from the doorway of the maid quarters. "And I well know the suffering we all would face were you met with the same fate as I! Do not do this foolishness, sister, for if Galmod would flog me for greeting merrily a member of his house, what more would be done to you for striking them?" She had seen enough, and heard enough for a thousand lifetimes, and wished it would all end. But Lorwyn, hopeful as she was that it would, also understood well the implications of her birth and the reasons for her torture, a fact kept from her young sister Thalian for fear of her reaction.

   Thalian threw the fire poker across the room, barely   missing the washbasin. She sank in a sobbing heap to the cold granite floor, broken of her anger in the knowledge that if she had taken after Master, she would be dead, and her sister bereft of either protection or support. Something had to be done, and she knew that, now that her father had gone, she was the only one who would dare try. But what could be done, if not through mutinous means?

   She turned to her mother. "Does my sister wish for retribution? No, for fear of hurting our family, as if she were not important enough to save. She has always protected us while you have done nothing, for what reason I know not. It doesn't matter anymore, I am through letting you decide who and what is worthy of defending. Today my mother stood idle whilst my sister begged for death, today, my mother died." staring deep into Willa's eyes, the realization of her words hitting her like cold fire, Thalian knew there was no going back this time. "You both," Thalian continued, "You both have pleaded of me not to retaliate this day, and this day I shall not, as you wish. But, there shall be retribution, I will not allow my family the pain of degradation hence more. Much of Lorwyn's abuse has been of her mind, and thus shall my revenge be reaped, the men of the house of Galmod will feel my wrath, and I will have their souls!"

   Thalian gave her mother a withering smile and left.

   "Mother," sobbed Lorwyn pitifully," What should we do for her?"

   "Pray," Will answered mournfully," Pray that she succeeds or dies painlessly."

   Lorwyn limped back into her room and sat stiffly on her worn mattress. Her father had acted this way many years ago, long before her family were subject to Galmod and his hideous dealings. Rornen was his name and he and Galmod had been friends, or so she'd been told. It seemed so surreal that only 15 years previously they were inseperable, and now as she sat here Galmod sat in his banquet hall with his children feasting to their hearts content. While Rornen lie in his grave not 10 feet under them. 

   And it was all her fault.


	2. twilight

disclaimer: Just in case you've yet to notice, I'M NOT TOLKEIN! But even if I were Saul Zaentz owns LotR anyway L.

Chapter 2: twilight

   Grima walked alone through the manor, his thoughts occupying his attention for the moment.  Why had father been so cruel to that poor serving wench when all she'd done was greet him? He had wanted to defend her, but as usual, he was too afraid of his father to react. Grima often thought himself an awful coward, an accusation that seemed valid to the untrained eye. But for anyone who knew the cruelty of Galmod, his father, Grima's silence seemed totally understandable.

   His mind snapped back to attention when he realized where he was. Without thinking about it, he'd ended up on the rooftop patio, his favorite part of the house. Grima surprised himself that he still knew the way there, after not being there for 15 years. As he settled himself in one of the large, comfortable wicker chairs, he noticed he wasn't alone, he could hear someone crying.

   After some hunting, he found the source. Behind some potted palms he saw her, not 20 feet away. Her back was to him, revealing ebony hair so long that it trailed two feet across the stone precipice on which she was seated. Grima could tell by her grey homespun dress that she was a serving girl, no older than sixteen. Nervously, for fear of spooking the child and causing her to fall, he spoke.

   "What bothers you my child?"

   She quickly stood and turned, revealing a porcelain face with deep blue eyes.

"I'm sorry, my lord," she responded, Grima imagined, a bit sarcastically. "I was merely resting for a moment, I'll be on my way and it won't happen again.' With that she began walking past him toward the patio exit. Grima sighed to himself. Women rarely ever wanted to speak with him, why should this young girl be any different? But, knowing that there was more to her avoidance than mere politeness or disinterest, he pursued their conversation.

   "You were crying, "he ventured, "would you like to talk about it?"

   She turned to him. "Why would you wish to talk to me? " she queried, a look of concern crossing her delicate features. "Do you wish for me to be flogged as well?"

   This was the problem. He realized that this girl must be the other's sister, the one who had been beaten. There was something about her, something that made him want to help her, despite the distrust he felt about opening up to most people. Grima decided he had to try and make it right, even if it was a bit late. 

   "I'm very sorry for what happened, "he began, trying not to crack as he found the words. "If I could have stopped him I would have, I was so scared, I've never seen him do that to anyone….anyone…"

   "But you!", she finished, her eyes going wide. He hung his head at her words, and she knew she was right. 

   Thalian tried to get her mind around this new revelation. Never had she thought that maybe Lorwyn wasn't the only one being beaten. But it was obvious that in this strange man's large green eyes was reflected the same pain her sister had shown since as long as she could remember. The thought crossed her mind to hug him, but then she remembered who he was.

   He looked up at her then, and she knew it wasn't his fault. "So that is why you've not entered this lace for almost 15 years? You've been afraid of being beaten?" 

"No, he hasn't hit me since I was young, I've just been to busy with my duties to King Theoden to travel this long distance, and until now, I haven't had any need to." He sat down, seemingly relieved that someone wanted to listen to him. Thalian wanted to like Grima, he seemed so alone and gentle, but every vengeful fiber in her being wanted to lash out at him as well, he was her enemy's son after all. Then she thought that perhaps making good with the master's son might get her leverage to harm Galmod himself, so she fought both guilt and anger and sat down next to Grima. 

   They spoke for an hour, about everything imaginable. Never did either spend this length of time with anyone, they were both very private people. Grima realized that the girl was just being nice, but it didn't seem to matter to her that he was ugly and short, so he just enjoyed himself. Thalian, on the other hand, felt bad that she had thought of using Grima, because now that she got to know him, he was a very nice person,and ,she thought blushedly, somewhat attractive, in an odd sort of way. She even found the timid deer- type way he acted toward her somewhat sweet. 

    Grima told her all about his job as advisor to King Theoden, and about the king's niece Eowyn ,who was 5 and 8 year old nephew Eomer, who constantly whacked Grima in the knees with his toy sword. Thalian told him about the quilt she was working on for his mother, a moon and stars theme with stitching made to look like swirls of night fog. This subject got them started on another; the stars. They both loved looking up at the stars for hours on end, which was why Grima's favorite place was the patio and also was the reason Thalian was there. Thalian new she would be in terrible trouble for being away for so long, but after the conversation with her mother, she didn't really care anymore.

   "Why do you blame your mother for this?" Grima asked her cautiously.

    "I don't blame her for causing it, just for not stopping it." she said

    " But you forgave me, and I didn't stop what happened to your sister," he responded, almost to himself.

    "You are not her, a mother should always defend her child."

    " Perhaps," he started," But a child always respect their parent!" Even as he said this, he knew he'd made a mistake.

    "Oh," she responded, the sarcastic tone evident yet again. "You mean the way you respect your father? Sometimes, parents don't deserve respect. Every time we've needed her she's turned away. I hate her!" Thalain turned from Grima, her body shaking with her sobs. He mentally slapped himself, he never should have brought this subject up, things had gone so well between them, and he'd just ruined that with one sentence.

   "I'm sorry I've hurt you again," said Grima, trying in futility to smooth it over. "I do this every time, I'm just so stupid." she kept sobbing, totally ignoring him. He hated himself and how he always messed up any attempt at friendship. "I'll go now, I've done enough damage." he stood.

   "No," Thalain gasped, trying to control her sobbing. "Don't go, it's not you……."

But Grima was already gone.


	3. From Afar

Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yadda, I don't own him, I just made him likeable. huggles her Grima plushie

author's note: I promise to make more LONGER chapters very soon, I just felt this story needed a dear diary moment. TY for the reviews guys, and I'll avoid modern words henceforth. (see "henceforth" is archaic LOL)

Chapter Three: from Afar

  _excerpt  from the journal of Grima ,son of Galmod:_

  It's been a fortnight since our first and only encounter, although I can still feel the warmth of your nearness every time I close my eyes. Why I feel this way, I know not, for I barely know you, and yet you seem so familiar.

  You are so close even as I write this. As you kneel at the mantle, your nimble hands delicately polishing the ebony woodwork, I sit above you in the stair landing, hidden from view, afraid to reach out or even speak . Thoughts of you invigorate me and yet terrify me, for I'm not sure if your words of kindness were simply that, just words, or if they denote more than that. 

  And frankly, I'm not sure which possibility frightens me more.

  And so I watch you instead, as you work, oblivious to me and everything I feel. It's better this way, why would you care for me to speak after my cowardice on the rooftop patio? My father always says a fool and his mouth are well met with a slap, and thoroughly slapped myself that fateful evening. I shall return to Rohan within the season, and my life will continue on, despite my lack of wanting it to. It's not in my being to be the type of man who would catch your eye, even if, for a moment it seemed as though I had. 

  I've been back to the place we met so many times I cannot count, and yet the patio has lost so much for me now. The constellations in their complex beauty torment me as they used to comfort me, for now the Dragon, the Bear, the sisters, are all gone, replaced with images of you. Your dark hair is the night, flowing for a seeming eternity around every inch of the sky, held in place with glittering pins of white fire; your face delicately outlined in brilliant diamonds too exquisite to purchase, as if any man would deserve them if he could.

  But I wax poetic about a dream that cannot be. I came to this place alone, and alone shall I stay. Am I a coward for not attempting to approach you again? Perhaps. But if I did, what would I say to you? 

  And could I live with your answer?


	4. The Stars Guide You Home

Look Up at the Stars

By Cobalt-Goddess

Chapter four: Stars guide you home

Like the trilling lilt of a robin's song, the flute's melody wafted through the cool morning air. A somber song it was, and known well by all folk of Gondor. The beautiful woman seated next to the flutist, her arm lovingly encircled about his shoulders, began to sing the tragic tune;

My love, my darling,

Where do you lie,

Your head as you sleep all alone?

I hope that you're dreaming,

Of me as you try,

To not weep as you rest on your own. 

Blue and deep and wondering wide,

The sea so far do you roam, 

I stay I pray and I curse the tide,

Till safely the stars guide you home.

My sky, my vision,

Did darken so,

The moment that you went away,

And now my mission,

My only goal,

Is here for your love I shall stay.

Blue and deep and wondering wide,

The sea so far do you roam, 

I stay I pray and I curse the tide,

Till safely the stars guide you home

They say, my dear,

Forever you'll stay,

Out there in the ocean so deep.

But you're so near,

As close as the day,

Is to night as I lie here asleep.

Blue and deep and wondering wide,

The sea so far do you roam, 

I stay I pray and I curse the tide,

Till safely the stars guide you home

Grima ended the song then and looked up at the woman he loved more than anyone in the world. The beautiful lady smiled at him and kissed him lovingly upon his tear streaked cheek.

"I'm so sorry, but I must go now, I have chores to attend to." She said to him as she began to stand.

Grima lept to his feet and helped her to hers, ending their brief time together with a warm embrace.

"Thank you for allowing me to accompany you today," He said without a hint of nervousness.

"I always have time for you, my dear." She beamed and went on her way.

Grima watched her go sadly, wishing she'd had more time for him, but being in charge of the maids of the house was a large task indeed.

Morosely he crept back to the house, his flute stuck in his coat pocket. He had to go and pack, for he was leaving for Edoras the next day, as the King had called him back early for important tasks. 

"Grima!" He heard the lady call from a distance.

"I almost forgot to tell you, you're father is holding a pary tonight in your honour, it's at 6, do not be late!"

Grima grinned. "Very well, I shall attend, if you agree to save me a dance!" He shouted to her.

"I shall, never fear" the mirth was evident in her voice.

"I love you mother!" He called in farewell.

"I love you too Grima." 


End file.
